Genoveva: Schumann's Little Known Minor Masterpiece

(Originally printed January 1998)

Last week I picked up the new Teldec set of Schumann's Genoveva. I'd not heard this opera since I was a kid. I remember liking it then. I love it now. The only review I've seen so far of this has been David McKee's in the recent Opera News (which, ironically just arrived as I'm writing this) and I couldn't disagree with it more. Of course, we all have different ears and interests which allow us to hear and experience things differently.  Here's what mine heard.

Harnoncourt shapes The Chamber Orchestra of Europe's performance throughout its entirety in a vivacious, nearly always thrilling reading. Numerous shadings and nuances exquisitely show us what Schumann's intent must have been. From overture to final curtain this is a powerful musical work. And why shouldn't it be?  It follows that the creator of some of the world's most exquisite songs should have crafted an opera that is just so musically . . . juicy. It only makes me sad that he, like Beethoven, didn't return to this genre again. If this was a first effort - goodness gracious what possibly could he have done had he kept writing operas?

Ruth Ziesak is the possessor of the type of voice I'm not always a fan of, "light and chirpy" (more appropriate for roles like Sœur Constance in Poulenc's Carmelites). Nonetheless, she does sing with remarkable artistry, and impeccable detail to the text and even though the voice sounds so small she ably convinces Genoveva's confusion, despair and honor.

I don't understand McKee's (in Opera News) description of Rodney Gilfry as "parched, decrepit-sounding" as his very first utterances are so commandingly sung . . . offering a deep resonance, powerful and assured.

Deon van der Walt has one of those ultra-light tenors best suited to recital work in small halls, but, like Ms. Ziesak, he is impassioned throughout, and it is a lovely sound.  He manages to sound beautiful even when warring in his duet with Margaretha, here an enormous sounding Marjana Lipovsek.  van der Walt actually sounds as if he'll explode - and Livposvsek sounds ... well just damned glorious, is all. 

Schumann has given Margaretha has one of those Grand Lady Entrance scenes and Lipovsek's giant voice and slavic vibrato provide one of those thrilling will she/won't she? make it qualities. Of course there is never any real doubt as to whether she will or not, but that's half the fun, isn't it?  Building on from there, Lipovsek's Act 3 ending scene with Thomas Quasthoff is positively hair raising. This was the first time I had heard the voice of Quasthoff , and I remember actually yelling "WOW!!!" (How lucky I wasn't in an opera house!)  It was a perfect introduction into this man's never less than thrilling voice with its rich, warm buttery quality but also possessing a lively buzz that cuts right to the heart.

 The recitatives for this opera have been damned by various critics, with the aforementioned one stating he found then "dying on their feet."  Again, we're at odds, as I found them vibrantly sung, the acting being all there in every character's voice. In fact, as in the best performances there are instances where the recits become as exciting as the proper musical numbers themselves. 

Schumann has written a score of beauty that, to my ears, doesn't seem to have a weak link within it. This extends to the choruses, which are about as exciting as any you'll hear in German romantic opera.  The finale of the first scene offers a marvelous concertato: soldiers going off to war, towns people cheering them on and the central characters in observation. The offstage chorus of women in the magic scene (with Margaretha waving a magic wand!) - Abendlufte kuhlend weh'n is pulled off with stunning effect. Schumann infuses his writing with appropriately gauzy music that somehow (for this listener) goes beyond just being aural taking on an almost visual (visual?) quality that in its way reminds me of a softer version of Parsifal's Flower Maidens.  

Mr. McKee called the voices (sans Quasthoff & Lipovsek) "too small" but this isn't Tristan und Isolde, or Die Walküre and not every opera needs gigantic voices to make its point or tell its story.  There is always more than one way to approach an opera, especially one neglected as Schumann's minor masterpiece here.

I can't imagine anyone not thoroughly enjoying this recording. I even enjoyed Ms. Ziesak, who, especially in her Act IV opening aria, singing with an exquisite purity.  She, Harnoncourt, the offstage chorus and orchestra, all seem to be exactly on the same wave length.  They are truly making drama in music here and it is just lovely. 

I know I'm a Schumann nut, and inspired by revisiting this work for the first time in decades, I'll say that , note for note, it beats the heck out of some of the standard rep. 

I do remember a critic who did not listen to the recording and doesn't know the work describe his apprehension stating "an opera of eternal lied singing would be unbearable."  I had to laugh, as I'd actually likely enjoy that.  But the fact is, nothing could be further from the truth regarding that fear:  This is not (so-called) lieder writing, it is genuinely, authentically operatic, and damned good, too. 

I love you, Genoveva! .

Bach's Matthäus-Passion: Simon Rattle, Peter Sellars and Berlin Philharmonic: An Overwhelming Experience for the Soul

For the first time since I was 17 I did not spend the day of September 16th listening to, and obsessing over, Maria Callas.

 
I went, in fact, in about as far a direction as one could possibly go, spending nearly 5 hours with Sir Simon Rattle and the Berlin Philharmonic's boxed set of their now legendary live 2010 performance of Bach's Matthäus-Passion. While opera takes up the biggest chunk of my life, my favorite composer has always been this man who never wrote a single opera, and this work, in particular, for me stands high among the crowning achievements of western civilization.

Recorded live at the Philharmonie, Sir Simon and the musicians he assembled each give definitive performances - perhaps the greatest performances of their lives. It should come as no surprise, the most searing, perfect performance comes from Mark Padmore's Evangelist. I've heard him in the role before, but none of those performances gave an inkling, nor could they have prepared me for the intensity of his personalization, simultaneously exhibiting a fierce, determined strength with the naturalness of a storyteller, and a weary, Everyman broken by life's enormity and cruelty. These qualities increased tenfold as, in addition to his duties of the difficult role, Padmore acted out the role of Jesus, beautifully sung by Christian Gerhaher from a platform high above the stage.

While I've always preferred a deeper, more contralto sound - i.e., Janet Baker, Christa Ludwig or Kathleen Ferrier, Magdalena Kozena sings - and just as importantly here - acts out her role with a heartbreaking ferocity, and complete understanding of this music. Without the aid of stage make-up or other standard theatrical tricks, she looks increasingly more haggard, worn and broken as the Passion moves on. At the same time she radiates a glow of this woman who adored Jesus.  We feel her exultation, sorrow and grief. Her interactions with Padmore's incarnation of Christ, the chorus, and others are revelatory, and when, briefly, Bach allows the music to shine in a hopeful manner, she becomes as dancer. It is a remarkable performance.

Camilla Tilling (very pregnant here) allows her voice to soar and shine through Bach's score differently than the pretty, sad "flute and soprano" music we're accostumed to in so many performance. She infuses her music with both confusion at the situations at hand, as well as with a strengthened resolve to carry on. Tenor, Topi Lehtipuu sings the tenor recits and arias with a gleaming sound that is close to perfection. In fact, I'll go out on the proverbial limb and state his to be the best, most beautiful performance I've ever heard of this music.

The great baritone, Thomas Quasthoff captured shortly before his unexpected retirement, gets some of Bach's greatest arias, including my favorite aria from any composer, Mache dich, mein Herze, rein. Here, as Joseph of Arimethea, the sincerity of his desire to bury his beloved Lord by himself is overwhelming in every sense. Indeed, here, as in his earlier appearances in the Passion, his noble, gentle spirit, and natural sense of drama - acting through the music, is infused with a pilgrim's sincerity throughout, which had to be at the forefront of Bach's mind as he set these beautiful texts.

Interestingly, while he is known for his immaculate precision and control, Rattle, throughout the performance, allows his musicians - noticeably, the arias with small ensembles, or continuo (as well as "duets" between singer and instrumentalist) to take on a life of their own. Without their conductor's influence, they adjust their tempi, dynamics, shaping and conduct these numbers themselves, as Rattle takes a back seat, silently looking on.

The Rundfunkchor Berlin and the boychoir are nothing short of perfection in the blazing, challenges of the choral ensembles, and make the chorales - traditionally performed as breaks in the lengthy narrative - as integral part of the storytelling as any other. Rattle does not allow them to perform them "merely" as congregational hymns, instead inserting great pauses, adjusting tempos according to text, and otherwise revolutionizing the manner in which we hear these familiar tunes. As with every other aspect of this performance, this only adds to the experience in a way that personalizes the great passion story and cuts straight to the observer's soul.

Peter Sellars calls his staging, "a ritualization . . . a prayer," and it is clear from the entire ensemble, every participant is on board to share his point of view. In a bold move, Sellars asked the solo instrumentalists to, as he had with the chorus and soloists, to memorize their music, removing music stands, and allowing - almost forcing - an intimacy of exchanges between the participants that is unique and which enriches the experience.

The final moments here are almost impossible to endure. During the great recitative for the soloists and both choruses, all bid Jesus "good night," and offer thanks for his life, and for the sacrifice of it. The emotion here leads directly into the famous final chorus, as all move towards and surround the tomb and body of Jesus.  It is a mass of humanity circling, confused and broken, yet filled with a hope that is not merely born of desperation, but rather defiant against those who would deny their Lord. Their hushed, tender calls of Ruhet sanfte, sanfte ruht (rest thou gently, gently rest) fades into the hall, as they stand around the tomb, motionless.  Silent.  Silent, too, is the audience, and for just shy of sixty seconds (an eternity in the theatre) there is not a single cough, rasp, throat cleared or premature applause. It isn't until the stage lights go down that the audience begins its ovation - which goes on for some nine or ten minutes, everyone (including this home viewer) releasing what had been building up for hours.

I don't know if I can recall being moved by a recorded performance as deeply. I don't think I ever have. Those who know me can well imagine the sniffling, weeping mess I was by the final chord. Believer or non-believer, this is the greatest story ever told, and rarely has it beenj told so beautifully.